


The Hairy Bear

by Nevermore_red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bear and the Maiden Fair, Camping, F/M, SanSan Summer Russian Roulette 2018, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: Prompt: (time period open, canon or AU)Sansa is camping in the woods by herself. She hears a noise and thinks it's a bear, but it's Sandor and he's more surprised to see her than she is him.





	The Hairy Bear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NorthCountryGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthCountryGirl/gifts).



This was all Arya's fault. Actually, that could be said about much of the things that had gone wrong in Sansa's life. But Arya was a smooth talker and had talked Sansa into all sorts of bad ideas in their lifetime. This, Sansa thought, was up there in the bad idea department. It wasn't that she disliked the outdoors. She didn't, honestly. There was so much beauty to be seen, and she often found her muse in the woods and her fingers would just itch to sketch or paint. Spending a few hours in the woods was one thing, though. Camping all by herself was altogether something else. 

It had all started when Sansa was on her fourth container of frozen yogurt and second bottle of wine. She didn't think the movie she was indulging in was too sappy, but apparently it had been enough to snap Arya's patience with her moping. She'd declared that if Sansa wasn't going to go after what she wanted, then she at least needed to get out of the damned house. 

"You like painting." Arya had nettled. "Go paint. In the woods. Far away from ice cream and wine and nauseating love stories. Take Jon's tent and my sleeping bag and just spend the night away from everything and everyone and get your shit together." 

The pep talk had encouraged Sansa. It was a good idea, on the surface. Her moping was really getting out of hand, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd painted something. The woods that surrounded the Stark property were achingly beautiful this time of summer. So she'd done just that. She'd packed up her jeep with the tent and the sleeping bag and the backpack of supplies that Arya had packed for her along with all her painting supplies. She'd hummed to herself while setting up the tent and her little makeshift art station. It was nice. The air was warm and the sun felt good on her skin. The godswood was in full bloom and birds chirped happily. Small woodlands creatures flitted about the area making it all seem so picturesque and lovely. 

But...but it was lonely. The silence didn't help her mind. The smell of the woods brought to memory his cologne and the birds that danced about from tree to tree called to mind the nickname he called her. It was only to tease her though. Nothing more than that. It wasn't as if she held a special place for him. In the five years that Sandor Clegane had been working at Winterfell Resort as a hunting and adventure guide, he'd only ever shown an inclination to protect her. Also annoyance. She did annoy him, she thought. But the protection was nothing more than her being his bosses daughter, and besides, he also showed the same protective streak with Arya. Sansa's interest in him, her desire and infatuation with him, was not returned. That much she was certain of. Even Joffrey Baratheon had scoffed at her when he'd noticed her interest on one of his families visits to the resort. A man like Sandor, he'd said, would never be interested in someone as weak and silly as Sansa. He was more like to be with someone like Brienne or even Arya. Someone better suited to his demeanor and personality, someone who shared an interest in the physical things. Besides, Sandor spent most of his free time a the nearby Winters Town, where there was a well known brothel. Sansa had even heard Bronn teasing him once about the amount of time he spent there, although Jon told her not to put stock in anything that Bronn ever said. Theon had told her it wasn't true, that in all his times there he'd never once seen Sandor, but still. What else was there in Winters Town?

Sansa pushed those thoughts away. She set up a blank canvas on her easel and started preparing her paints. The red of the leaves were stunning and she was going to focus on that and bring them to life on her canvas and not think of Sandor Clegane and his muscles and his grin and his beautiful grey eyes. When her brush stroked the canvas, however, it wasn't the form of tree trunks or leaves that her fingers started shaping. She knew what it was going to be, and instead of fighting it, gave in and brought to mind everything she liked best about him. She'd just gotten the outline of his face, the sharp jaw and proud, hooked nose, when a noise startled her out of her concentration. It was a rustling in the trees, louder than that of the smaller animals, yet further away.

Sansa swallowed, recalling all the many predators that were in these woods. She squinted through the trees in the direction the noise was coming from. It sounded heavy, so probably something big. A direwolf or bear. But direwolves rarely came this far south of the Wall and if they did, they were in packs. This was a lone animal. She caught a glimpse of something tall and dark. A bear, then.   

Carefully setting down her paintbrush, Sansa quickly tried to recall what the best measures were. Did she play dead? No, no she didn't think so. What was it her father always said? What was it that Sandor instructed the guests before taking them out? Don't run. That much she knew. Make yourself as big as possible, make loud noises, show dominance. If you had bear spray, use it, but Sansa's backpack was in the tent and the bear was getting closer. 

Her heart was racing so hard it was starting to hurt, her muscles coiling with the desire to run and flee. Sansa fought down that instinct and stood up from her small stool. Picking it up, she took a deep breath. 

Then she screamed, as loud as she could, and with every single ounce of her strength, she threw the stool in the direction that the bear was now making it's way out of the trees and into her small clearing. Still screaming, her throat starting to sting, Sansa took the moment throwing the stool had given her and made for her backpack. Ripping it open, she dumped out it's contents and grabbed up the bear spray. Drawing in another deep breath, she screamed again and spun around, spray held out in front of her, prepared to face the bear and fight for her life. 

"Son of a..." the bear cursed loudly and Sansa screamed again when she realized it wasn't a bear at all. It was Sandor, who was rubbing his temple, blood oozing out from under his fingers and running down his unscarred cheek. 

"Oh my gosh!" Sansa squealed, throwing down the bear spray and rushing towards him. "Sandor, are you alright?" 

"Fucking, no." he snapped, glaring at her. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here? And why in the fuck did you throw a damned stool at me?" 

"Um...camping?" she shrugged when he lifted his non existent brow. "I thought you were a bear." 

"So you screamed bloody murder and threw a stool?" he narrowed his eyes at her. "Where's your bear spray? Did you not bring a gun? What about that useless damned wolf of your cousins?" 

"I have bear spray." she motioned towards the discarded can. "I was just about to use it. Luckily for you, I didn't." 

"Lucky." he scoffed, removing his hand from the small gash on his temple. "I'm fucking bleeding. I feel real lucky." 

"Come here." she reached out and took his wrist, tugging him to the lawn chair she had set up by the tent. "Sit, please." she pushed him gently towards the chair and he sat with another grumbled curse. Her hands were shaking from the adrenaline that had coursed threw her just moments ago but she steadied them while she searched for the first aide kit she'd dumped out of the bag. 

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" Sandor asked once she'd found it. 

"I was painting." she came up to his injured side and since he was so ridiculously tall, his head was at her chest. Perfect height to take care of his wound. 

"I didn't think you painted anymore." he said, taking the opened kit from her when she handed it to him. He held it up for her to find a few alcohol wipes. She ripped one open and started cleaning up the blood from his cheek and temple. 

"It's been a while." she agreed. "But, as Arya said, I needed to get out of my own head." 

"Of course this was the little wolfs idea." he flinched just a little when she dabbed a clean wipe to the gash. "You should know better than to listen to her." 

"Her ideas aren't all bad." she finished cleaning the gash. "It's not too deep, but I'm going to put a few butterfly bandages on it to be safe." 

"Wouldn't want to scar." he said sarcastically and Sansa shook her head. 

"Why are you out here, anyway?" she asked as she smoothed the first bandage in place. "Don't you know there's bears out in these woods?" she added in a tease. 

"Arya wanted me to do a perimeter check for some reason." Sandor handed her another opened bandage. "Something about a lone direwolf being spotted on it's own." 

Sansa huffed with a roll of her eyes. She should have known it was Arya. She couldn't help but be meddlesome. 

"What?" Sandor asked, tilting his head up to meet her eyes. He was so close to her and her fingers absently smoothed along the skin just below where she'd finished putting the second bandage. Painting him was a futile thing, she realized. She would never have enough talent to get his eyes right. The color or the emotion in them. She felt his jaw muscles feather and realized she'd been touching and staring for too long. 

"Just Arya." Sansa dropped her hand and shook her head. "She just can't mind her own business." 

"Ah." Sandor nodded, then cleared his throat. "I take it you're the lone direwolf, then?" 

"Seems that way." she smiled sadly. It was a little painful how true that was. Out of her siblings, she was the only one without a partner. Robb had Jeyne. Jon had Val. Arya had Gendry. Bran had Jojen. Rickon had Shireen. Sansa...Sansa had no one. She didn't want  _anyone._ She wanted Sandor. She quickly shook herself out of it and took the kit from Sandor so she could put it back.

"It's your day off, anyway." she commented. "Why aren't you in Winters Town?"

"I spend some of my days off here." he argued, shifting out of the chair to the ground to help her pick up the things from the pack. Sansa blushed to the roots of her hair when he held up a small box of condoms and looked at her with a raised brow.

"Ah." she squeaked, snatching them from his hand and shoving them in the bag. "Arya is such a...a..."

"Bitch?" Sandor supplied and Sansa laughed lightly.

"Busybody, was what I was going to say."

"I think bitch applies to her as well."

"That's rude." Sansa scolded him and he just shrugged, putting the last of the supplies into the pack before rising to his feet and brushing off his pant legs.

"So, I feel like I'm missing something here." he scratched the side of his head. "Arya sent you out here, then sent me out here with false information, knowing I'd run into you. There's condoms in the pack that I assume Arya put together. And you..." his eyes caught on her easel still setting up, the canvas facing him so he was staring at the beginnings of his own face. She'd gotten enough done that it was obvious it was him and Sansa felt horror and embarrassment creeping up her throat.

"I..." she cleared her throat. "You have such an intriguing face. I tried to paint the trees, but apparently you're my muse." she laughed nervously and fought the urge to look away when his eyes swung back to hers.

"What's going on here, Sansa?" he asked, the brunt corner of his lips twitching. "Fill me in, because I feel real fucking confused right now."

Sansa shrugged helplessly, then sighed. "I sort of have a bit of a crush on you." she admitted. "Arya knows about it and teases me endlessly. Apparently she was tired of my mooning about and encouraged me to get out of the house for some me time. Obviously it was just a set up, though. She can't leave well enough alone."

Sandor was silent for a long time and when Sansa peaked up at him she found that he was staring right back at her. His face was blank, as it often was, but his eyes were a storm of things she had no hope of sorting through.

"Is that why Osha has been buying so much frozen yogurt lately?" he finally asked and Sansa couldn't help but giggle.

"Guilty." she touched a hand to her belly. "My figure is starting to suffer for it, though. That and that delicious wine from the Summer Isles."

"Your figure looks fine to me." he assured her, voice gruff and eyes scanning her from head to toe. He did that often, she realized. Looked at her like that. It was usually before he said something snarky to her.

"I, uh, I'm sorry." she brought his attention back to her face. "I don't want to make your job awkward or anything. We can just keep going like we have, no hard feelings."

"Awkward?" he huffed a laugh. "You don't thinks it's _been_ fucking awkward? Having to hide a hard on half the time from your dad, driving myself insane with thinking about you? Why in the hells do you think I spend so much time in Winters Town?"

"The brothel?" she said cautiously and Sandor narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't go to the brothel." he nearly growled. "I'm not the fucking Greyjoy boy or that Hardying cunt you dated."

"Then why?" she nearly whispered.

"To get away from you so I can damned well breathe!" he almost yelled. "You drive me bloody insane. I want you so godsdamned much that I..."

"You do?" she interrupted, not even caring that it was a rude thing to do.

"Yes." he said on a sigh. "How could you not have noticed?"

Sansa thought back to all their interaction, seeing them in a new light, realizing that she was in fact a stupid little bird for not noticing. Goodness, was she blind.

So shocked by that revelation, Sansa floundered for something to say.

"I...I'm so sorry I hurt you." she motioned to his bandaged temple. "I thought you were a bear and...and I remembered all the things you tell the tourists and I..." she didn't realize that she was crying until Sandor stepped closer to her and lifted a hand to wipe away the tear that was running down her cheek.

"It's fine." he assured her in a voice far softer than she'd ever heard him speak in. Then a grin tugged at his lips. "If you feel that bad, though, you could always kiss it better."

Sansa smiled and laughed, feeling light and fuzzy and so very, very happy. She lifted a hand to cup the back of his head and tugged him down. Going up on tippy toe, she pressed her lips below his bandages. Then she kissed him again, a little lower, on his sharp cheekbone. Again, this time her lips being tickled by the prickles of facial hair on his cheek. She went to kiss just off to the side of his mouth when he turned his head and caught her lips with his. At first it was just that, their lips pressing against one another. Sansa parted her lips, drawing in a breath at the same time that Sandor exhaled and goosebumps rose along her skin. He brought both hands up, grabbing hold of each side of her face and pressing his lips more firmly into hers.

Sansa lost herself in it. The noises of the woods around them faded out and she focused everything onto him. She gasped when he took her bottom lip between his, feeling how soft and giving his lips were compared to the rough scrape of the scarred corner of his mouth. Sandor pulled back abruptly, as if she might be put off by the feeling. This time Sansa took her turn at grasping his face, pulling him back and licking lightly at that corner of his mouth. He shuddered and then something snapped and they were devouring each other. His tongue and his lips and his hands and his smell, that was all that existed for her in that moment. Him, just him.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Sansa was having trouble getting her breathing under control. Sandor kept licking his bottom lip, like he couldn't get enough of her taste. It made Sansa blush just as it made her hot and achy. 

"The Bear and the Maiden Fair." she whispered, not actually meaning to say it out loud. When Sandor lifted both brows in question Sansa giggled a little. "That song, I'd never really put much thought into it before, about the actual meaning." 

Sandor snorted at that, rolling his eyes. "And here you thought I was a bear." he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her more firmly into his body. 

"Well, you are all covered in hair." she teased, running her fingers through the wiry hair along his arms. 

"Mm." he nuzzled his nose into her neck and Sansa let her head fall back on her shoulders. "You do smell like honey. Would you dance with a hairy bear?" 

"I would be honored." she giggled, tugging his face back up to hers. He kissed her, let her press herself into him, and then he broke off to put his mouth right next to her ear. 

"You do know what it means when he licks the honey from her hair, don't you Little Bird?" 

Sansa shivered, grasping tightly onto his flanks. "Take me into the tent and you can show me." 


End file.
